


What the Water Gave Me

by sarahcakes613



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Background Rita/Amanda, Bathing/Washing, Christmas Presents, Day At The Beach, I'm sorry the tags are such a mess, Language Barrier, Learning To Communicate, M/M, Merman Sonny, Shapeshifting, Sushi, how the fuck isn't 'mermaids' a canon tag?, i am FLABBERGASTED, really vaguely Gremlins inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Rita gives Barba a gift that turns out to be much more than it seems.Or, Sonny is a merman.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44
Collections: Barisi Creatures Bingo





	What the Water Gave Me

**Author's Note:**

> With this covering the mermaid and shapeshifting squares, I get to say blackout bingo on my October card!
> 
> Massive, huge, bigly thanks to J and B for helping me with the title, to Nads for being there literally every step of the way from the moment I sent the voice memo with my idea, and to Chey for being my second pair of eyes and for all the amazing comments as you were reading. Also, Nads and Chey are basically why this story has an ending. Bless you both.
> 
> Chey cut through my comma abuse but I added a bunch of words and also went back and changed a couple of bits so any typos and run-on sentences (like this one) remaining are mine and mine alone.

Rita hands him his Christmas present with her trademark smirk and arched eyebrow, and he takes the package gingerly from her hands.

“Is opening this going to do any damage to my suit?” He asks, sliding a letter opener under the seam of wrapping paper to cut the tape. It’s elegantly wrapped, with professional looking creases and a multi-curled ribbon affixed in one corner.

“That was one time,” Rita sniffs. “And I didn’t know I’d bought you an exploding ink pen by accident.”

Rafael hums, smiling at his friend as he peels away the paper. Underneath, he finds a box, roughly the size of a shoebox, bearing the stamp of the Museum of Natural History. He looks quizzically at her.

“Jesse wanted to see the origami tree, and then she decided she needed a book on origami, so we had to go to the gift shop.” Rita shrugs.

Rafael laughs. Rita still has to couch everything in practical excuses, but he can see how much she’s falling in love with being a stepmom to Amanda’s girls and it makes him happy for them both. If a little bit lonely, which is never a fun feeling but one that seems amplified in the leadup to Christmas.

He pries open the shoebox and removes a top layer of styrofoam to reveal what looks like a small fish tank. There are some wrapped items inside the tank, and a small booklet of instructions. He pulls the booklet out and reads the title.

“ _Grow your own companion_.” Rafael looks at Rita blankly. “Very funny.”

She laughs. “Oh come on, it’s great! They had one set up at the cash, it’s like a little ecosystem that sustains itself, all you have to do is assemble it and occasionally wash the moss ball. Even a cactus killer like you should be able to keep this going.”

“It was a plant, how was I supposed to know there are plants you don’t water.” Rafael mumbles half to himself as he picks up the various items in the tank. There is the moss ball, a bag of polished rocks he can use to line the bottom, a small container of what look like tiny freeze-dried shrimp, and a little figurine of, Rafael’s not sure, possibly a mermaid. He holds it up to show Rita.

“Did one of Jesse’s toys make it in here?”

She looks closely at it and shakes her head. “No, that must be part of the décor. Or maybe it’s like one of those expandable toys, so your shrimp have something to play with.” She smirks. “I should get going. Send me photos when it’s all set up!”

She leans across the desk to kiss him on the cheek and when she pulls back, she gives him a steady serious look. “You deserve more than some shrimp, Rafa. Maybe this year you’ll get your Christmas miracle.”

He rolls his eyes. One by one, he’s losing his friends in workaholism to family life and each time it happens, he adds another voice to the chorus of well wishers who just _want you to be happy_.

He is happy, with his work.

He waves her off, and hears her wishing Carmen a happy Channukah as she leaves.

When he gets home, Rafael sets his gift down on the kitchen counter while he cobbles together a dinner of leftovers and a generous pouring of red wine.

He eats, idly flipping through a catalogue. He’s on his second glass of wine when the box again catches his eye, and he grunts to himself. Rita wants to make a joke, he thinks, well. He’ll show her.

He stands, teetering a bit as the wine catches up to his motor functions, and drags the box closer to the sink. He carefully unpacks the components and peers at the instructions before throwing them down on the counter. All he has to do is put in warm water, it can’t be that hard.

The tiny figurine still puzzles him. The box shows a list and pictures of all the contents and there is the tank, the plant and rocks, the shrimp. There’s no picture of a tiny – he raps it with his fingernail, trying to determine what the material is, but still can’t figure it out – mermaid. He mentally shrugs– probably some enterprising employee at the museum gift shop thought they could offload some poorly selling stock by including it in with other items.

Rafael twists the tap halfway to hot and lets it run for a minute before setting the tank in the sink. He pours the rocks to line the bottom and then nudges it directly under the tap. While it fills, he carefully removes the plastic wrapping from the other items. When the tank is full, he carefully lifts it out and carries it to the living room, staggering slightly under the weight of it. Water sloshes up the sides but doesn’t spill, and he successfully maneuvers it onto a side table.

He plops the moss ball in first, then the packet of water treatment, and then he upends the container of dessicated shrimp, watching the tiny creatures sink down. The instructions had said it would be anywhere from 12 to 24 hours before they were fully out of their metabolic sleep state. He isn’t going to put the figurine in at first but the tank does look a bit empty, so he carefully drops it into a corner where it will have a good vantage point out into the living room.

“In case you get bored of staring at the shrimp,” he tells the statuette solemnly. It’s features seem clearer in the water, and he looks at it’s painted light brown hair, big blue eyes, and tiny full pink mouth. It reminds him a little of those ceramic dolls that all the abuelas collected when he was a kid.

He takes a photo of the setup, sending it to Rita with a thumbs up emoji, and then returns to the kitchen to tidy up before turning out the lights and going into the bedroom.

He reads for a while, but eventually finds himself drifting, his book open on his chest. He wakes once in the night and as he blearily makes his way to the bathroom he catches sight of a glow coming from the living room. He walks toward it and sees the tank shimmering with a muted phosphorescent hue. The shrimp aren’t moving yet, so it’s probably the water treatment causing it, but it’s beautiful and Rafael finds himself transfixed, watching it.

From the corner of the tank there is movement and at first he thinks it is the moss ball rolling but then he sees the briefest whipping of a tiny tail and he crouches in front of the tank to look more closely. The figurine is moving, swimming around the moss ball, inspecting it from all sides. It leans in and appears to be trying a curious bite of the moss before darting back, shaking itself off when it finds the taste displeasing.

Rafael stares, open-mouthed. He swipes a hand over his eyes to wipe away sleep but it doesn’t help, the small figurine – no, it’s very clearly not a figurine. The small _creature_ is _alive_ and now it is happily eating – Rafael sighs. So much for the shrimp companions.

This is all too much for him in the middle of the night and he tries to put it from his mind as he brushes his teeth and gets back into bed.

When he properly wakes up in the morning he decides that it was a dream and after pouring a cup of coffee into his travel mug he will walk into his living room and find slowly hatching shrimp and a toy that hasn’t moved.

He walks into the living room, confident in his belief. He spares a brief thought to thank the strength of his travel mug when no coffee pours out of it as it falls to the ground but the rest of his conscious brain can only focus on one thing. It wasn’t a dream.

And the miniature mermaid, who was a 5-inch toy last night, is now larger than one of Jesse’s dress-up dolls. And is more clearly a merman. The tank itself is only about a foot-and-a-half across, and the merman is nearly a foot tall now. He is pressed up against one wall of the tank and when he sees Rafael he begins moving his mouth as if he is trying to communicate, his tail flipping back and forth wildly.

Rafael has a full day at work and he can’t very well call in because a toy has come to life. He tries to think quickly. The tank is too small and the merman’s eyes are wide and Rafael doesn’t think he’s imagining fear and confusion in them.

He doesn’t know if mermen can survive out of water but if he tries to carry the entire tank, he’ll wind up with water all over his suit. He also doesn’t know if he can ask, because do mermen understand English? Or any human language?

He steps closer to the tank, and the merman shoots back, flattening itself along the further wall of the tank.

“Cálmate,” he soothes, “I’m not going to hurt you.” He dips just the tips of his fingers into the water to see what happens.

The merman swims up to him and sniffs Rafael’s fingers. He nips at one and makes a face. His teeth aren’t very sharp and Rafael laughs.

“You didn’t like the moss ball and you don’t like my fingers. Is shrimp all you eat? Maybe I should order sushi tonight?”

The creature looks up at him, blank incomprehension on his features.

Rafael sighs. He wiggles his fingers and then lifts his hand out of the water, trying to imply what he wants to do with the creature. It blinks at him and then carefully grips his hand, curling his tail around Rafael’s fingers.

“Bueno,” he murmurs. “Come on then.”

He moves quickly, rushing down the hallway to the bathroom. He sets the merman down in the bathtub and turns the tap on to just a trickle. He starts with cool water and watches the merman to see if it has any temperature preference.

The creature shivers, and he turns the tap further towards warm water. The creature’s tail begins slapping and he swims closer to the tap, ducking his head directly under the flow.

“Okay then, warm water it is.” Rafael chuckles as he drops the stopper into the tub’s drain.

The merman opens its mouth and warbles at Rafael. It doesn’t sound like anything resembling human speech, more like the sound of bubbling water running over rocks.

He lets the tub fill halfway, not wanting to risk leaving it too full and getting a call from his landlord that water is leaking into the apartment below while he is out. The creature swims up and down the length of the tub, diving to the bottom and emerging, spewing water like a fountain. He warbles again, chittering an odd sound that reminds Rafael of rain plinking against a window. He thinks it may be the merman version of laughter.

“I have to go to work,” Rafael tells the creature. “Please don’t eat my soap.”

He looks around the bathroom to see if there’s anything he should remove. He catches the shimmer in the corner of his mirror where the television screen peeks through and he considers it.

It had been a complete extravagance of a purchase, having a television mirror installed, but it’s become part of Rafael’s routine now to luxuriate in the tub when he has the time, while watching the evening news.

He clicks it on with the remote and flips through the channels until he finds something that might be diverting enough entertainment for a whole day. He settles on BBC America, which is currently showing an episode of The Great British Bake-Off. That seems safe enough as viewing goes.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he says, for some reason. He has no idea if mermen have the same concept of time as humans. They probably don’t have a solar calendar, if they spend all their time underwater, so a day to them may be shorter than 24 hours. Maybe by the time Rafael gets home, three days will have passed for the creature.

On that vaguely sad and unsettling note, he leaves. He waves to the merman, because it seems only polite, and the merman flaps a hand back at him in mimicry.

His day is long and filled mostly with meetings, defense attorneys who want to wrap up on deals before taking off for Gstaad and St. Moritz, public defenders who want to give their clients one last holiday at home before reporting for their sentence. Everyone wants something, and Rafael mostly just wants to go home and check on his merman.

Thankfully, any distracted airs he gives off are explained away by the impending holidays, which is good because it’s infinitely easier to believe that notoriously grinchy ADA Barba has had a change of heart about Christmas than it is to believe that ADA Barba has a real live merman sitting in his bathtub watching people compete to see who can bake the best Victoria sponge.

He leaves the office promptly at 5pm, surprising Carmen, who is pulling on her coat.

“You’re leaving on time,” she says, suspicious. “Should I be worried?”

“I have errands to run,” Rafael lies. “I want to get them done before the weekend.”

“Hmm.” Carmen studies him, but doesn’t ask any more questions. They walk out together and he graciously offers her the first taxi he waves down.

“Have a good weekend,” Rafael says. “See you on Monday.”

He hails a second taxi and relaxes in his seat as the car pulls out into the afternoon traffic. He’s got the weekend to figure out what to do with a small merman and he wonders idly if the aquarium on Coney Island takes animal donations from the public.

When he opens his front door he hears light splashing and the gentle tones of Sir David Attenborough narrating a documentary about three-toed sloths. He sets down his briefcase and walks down the hall to the bathroom.

“So, how are we toni– _dios m_ _ío!_ ”

He grips the doorframe tightly in an effort to stay upright. The small creature, not even a foot tall this morning, is now longer than the tub. The bottom of his tail is curled up under the tap, and his torso is half out of the water at the other end, head leaning against the wall.

The creature looks over as Rafael fumbles over to sit on the closed toilet, not taking his eyes off the merman. If Rafael keeps his eyes above the waistline, it looks like a completely human man. A young, very attractive, human man. Below the waistline there is no mistaking him for anything other than a semiaquatic being. His tail shimmers with iridescent green scales from his hips all the way down to the forked fin at the end.

The merman’s eyes had widened with excitement when Rafael first came in, and he waves at Rafael. “Henlo!” He says brightly. Rafael stares at him.

“Hello?” He says, because what else is he supposed to say.

“Well done!” The merman says, nodding. His voice is throaty and oddly accented.

Rafael continues to stare at him. The merman stares back, smiling widely.

“You didn’t talk this morning,” Rafael says accusingly.

“Henlo! Well done!” The merman waves at the television.

Rafael looks at the screen, where a sloth is lumbering across a tree branch.

“Right,” he murmurs, more to himself. “That explains why you appear to have an English accent.” He looks back at the creature. “Can you say anything else?”

The creature smiles at him and nods. “I yam.” He points to himself.

“You…yam. I yam. Oh! I am. You are. You are what? Or who?” Rafael asks, his voice rising slightly.

The creature’s eyes widen and his mouth droops. “Henlo? I yam?” He tries to push himself into the corner of the tub, which doesn’t work because of how large he now is, and puts his hands over his ears.

Rafael bites his tongue. The creature probably has more sensitive hearing, being used to the dampening effect of water on sound.

“I’m sorry,” he says, lowering his voice. “Were you trying to tell me your name?” He points to himself, “I am Rafael,” and then points to the creature. “You are?”

The creature points to himself again. “I are? I yam? Sonny. I yam Sonny.”

“Sonny,” Rafael nods. He holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Sonny.”

Sonny looks at his hand and then back at his face, and then at the television. He tentatively puts his hand in Rafael’s, and Rafael shakes it lightly once and then lets go.

Sonny inspects his hand and seems satisfied that Rafael hasn’t done anything to it. Rafael looks down at him and then his eyes wander around the tub. There is a bar of soap on the edge with small tooth marks in it, and he laughs.

The merman follows his eyeline and blushes, his cheeks and neck flushing red and his scales turning a deep purple shade. He warbles something in his own language and sticks his tongue out, mimicking rubbing the soap flavour off.

“I did tell you not to eat my soap,” Rafael says. “I’ll order us some sushi. Would you like that?” He opens his UberEats app and scrolls until he finds a nearby sushi restaurant with a good star rating. He tilts the phone so Sonny can see the pictures. He taps Sonny’s hand, saying “just point if you see something you want.”

He scrolls slowly, tapping on the rolls he wants. Sonny watches, fascinated, as the screen moves. He lets out a sound that is too quiet to be called a screech, but resembles it in pitch, and Rafael stops scrolling.

Sonny points and nods. “Well done!”

He’s pointing at crab sashimi and then he points again at a picture of scallops. Rafael adds them to his order and then he looks at the tempura options.

“Do you only eat raw stuff, or can you eat cooked food?” He asks, pointing at the tempura. Sonny looks at it and then looks up at Rafael, shrugging.

“Well, we’ll find out.” He says, and adds three orders of tempura shrimp. Once the order is sent, Rafael stands up to go get changed before the food arrives.

Sonny makes another chirrup sound, looking alarmed. “Goodbye?”

“No,” Rafael reassures him. He unbuttons his shirt and shakes the fabric. “I’m just going to change my clothing. I’ll be right back.”

Sonny sinks deeper into the water and peers at him suspiciously. Rafael can see his mouth pouting under the water and he rolls his eyes as he pulls off his shirt. Sonny’s tail shimmers deeply purple again as he leaves.

He changes into faded plaid sleep pants and a baseball shirt and manages to pour himself a drink before his doorbell rings. He pushes down on the buzzer until he hears the loud click of the lobby door opening.

After thanking the Uber driver, he carries his drink and the bag of food into the bathroom. He isn’t going to give Sonny a breakable plate and he’s fine with using a napkin for himself.

He sets the bag down on the counter and Sonny beams up at him, his tail flickering.

“Henlo!”

“Yes, hello,” Rafael smiles back at him. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

He pries open the plastic containers and sets a few pieces of sashimi on the edge of the tub. Sonny snatches one up and shoves it in his mouth happily.

Rafael laughs and sets out the rest of the crab for him. He also holds out a piece of nigiri, not sure if Sonny will eat the rice or not. Sonny takes it, sniffs it, and pops it in his mouth. His eyes widen and he flaps his hand at Rafael, demanding more.

“Let’s eat!” Sonny says, repeating Rafael’s words. He’s modulated his accent so it sounds more like Rafael’s and less like an English nature documentarian.

Rafael sets the tray of scallop nigiri down next to the crab, and Sonny’s tail flicks back and forth, shimmering an almost opalescent blue as he eats.

When Rafael opens the tempura shrimp, Sonny’s nose twitches and he looks at it uncertainly.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” Rafael says. “Here, we’ll do it like this.” He takes a bite, smiles, and gives a thumbs up gesture. “If you like it, you do this. If you don’t like it, do this.” He takes another bite and frowns, giving a thumbs down gesture.

Sonny’s fingers curl as he imitates the gesture clumsily. Rafael hands him one of the shrimp and he bites into it, his eyes going big at the enormous crunching sound it makes. He chews and Rafael can see a grimace forming, but Sonny smiles tremulously, giving him a thumbs up.

Rafael tilts his head, furrowing his brow. “It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he says, “I won’t be offended.” He reaches over and takes the rest of it from Sonny’s hand, setting it in the container. Sonny watches him.

“Goodbye?” Sonny asks, pointing at the tempura and then himself.

“Goodbye,” Rafael repeats, pointing at the shrimp. “Hello,” he says, pointing at Sonny. He hopes Sonny understands that Rafael is not letting him stay based on if he likes the food Rafael feeds him.

He has the brief horrific thought that they could be having two entirely different conversations and not know it, and he wonders how difficult it would be to learn sign language in a weekend.

“Henlo,” Sonny agrees, pointing at himself and nodding again.

“Good, glad we’ve got that sorted.” Rafael jokes. He takes a sip of his scotch and Sonny makes another chirruping sound, this one more breathy, rising up at the end like a question.

Rafael shakes his head. “Oh, I definitely don’t think you would like this,” he says.

Sonny flaps his hands, insistently gesturing for the glass. Rafael slides down to kneel on the floor next to the tub, because he’s not about to hand something fragile to a merman with slippery hands. Though, as he looks more closely at Sonny’s fingers, he notices faint circular markings that almost look like octopus suckers.

He holds the cup up to Sonny’s mouth, tilting it just a little and letting the scotch trickle down to the merman’s lips. Sonny’s mouth is open and almost as soon as the alcohol touches his tongue his hand shoots up to grip Rafael’s wrist, pushing his hand away.

Rafael isn’t expecting the reaction and he startles, spilling scotch all down Sonny’s chest. Sonny whimpers in the back of his throat and scratches at his chest, frantically splashing water on himself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Rafael soothes him. He moves the glass out of the way. “Let me see,” he says, nudging Sonny’s hand away. Where the scotch has spilled there are light pink marks, like he’s been mildly scalded.

“Maybe you’re allergic to alcohol,” Rafael muses. Sonny whimpers again, and makes an emphatic thumbs down gesture.

Rafael laughs. “Yeah, I get that. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He rummages in the cabinet under the counter and finds a small unused shower pouf that had probably come in some sort of bath bomb gift basket. His regular soap is fairly gentle, but he looks through his stash and finds one made with aloe, which will hopefully relieve some of the discomfort.

Rafael wets the pouf and rubs the soap onto it, and then gently begins to apply it to Sonny’s skin. Sonny watches him, his eyes shimmering with pained tears. As the alcohol washes off his skin, the pink marks already begin to fade and Sonny’s quiet whimpers slow and then stop, replaced with the warbling sound that Rafael has already begun to associate with his curiosity.

Sonny plucks the pouf from Rafael’s hand and runs it over his face, delighting in the way the mesh feels. Rafael tries to take the pouf back but Sonny tightens his grip and smiles coyly, tugging it so Rafael is pulled closer to him.

Rafael lets go with a laugh. “Alright, alright, you can have it.” He sits back against the wall and considers the state of his bathroom. He’s got a fully grown merman in his only tub, which is going to become a problem pretty quickly, because it’s not the biggest tub to begin with, and he’s not sure he wants to attempt showering with a merman sitting at his feet.

For tonight at least, he will just brush some dry shampoo through his hair. As he looks at Sonny, he still doesn’t know what to do next. He’s still wondering if he should call the aquarium, but chances are they’ll think he’s a prank caller. Or they’ll believe him and whisk Sonny away never to be seen again, which is an alarming thought.

Sonny is humming now, rubbing his cheek with the shower pouf, his eyes repeatedly drifting shut and then flying open. It’s a look Rafael recognizes from nights of looking after Noah and the girls.

“You must be very tired,” he says. “I know I am, so I’m going to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow we can watch Dora the Explorer and we can attempt to communicate in two languages.” He laughs at his own bad joke.

As he gathers up the remaining sushi, Sonny stops him, grabbing pieces of crab and putting them on the further edge of the tub, away from Rafael.

“Okay, okay,” he says, setting the sashimi and nigiri back down. “I get it, you might want a midnight snack.” He leaves everything except the rest of his avocado roll and his empty scotch glass. The roll goes in the fridge, and he rinses out the glass and leaves it in the dishrack to dry.

He steps back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, which Sonny watches him do with interest. He squeezes out a tiny dab of toothpaste onto his finger and offers it to Sonny, who sniffs it, and prods at it with his own finger, but he doesn’t attempt to taste it.

“I’m going to go to bed,” he tells Sonny. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Sonny looks at his mouth as he speaks and then nods. “Morning, okay!”

Rafael isn’t sure Sonny actually understands, but it’s late and he’s tired, so whatever. He almost reaches out to ruffle at Sonny’s hair before remembering that Sonny isn’t one of the kids in his life, and it would probably be a weird gesture to the merman. Hell, maybe they consider hair ruffling an insult of the highest measure.

He pauses before turning the light off. He pulls a nightlight out from the cabinet, which he keeps on hand for when Noah is sleeping over, and plugs it into the outlet next to the light switch. Once it’s on, he turns off the overhead light and Sonny gasps at the flickering stars that are projected onto the ceiling and walls.

“Good night, Sonny.” Rafael says softly as he leaves the room. Sonny doesn’t respond, too enamoured of the shifting shadows playing over his hand as he tries to touch the stars.

Rafael falls asleep to the lightly splashing sounds of Sonny in his bathtub.

When he wakes, he already knows the events of the previous evening weren’t a dream, because he can hear a throaty humming coming from his bathroom, and water running. It sounds like the shower, and he lies in bed listening to it pattering down. Sonny must have figured out how to operate the taps, he supposes.

When his bladder eventually nudges at him, reminding him that he didn’t actually use the toilet before going to bed, he swings himself out of bed and lets himself into the bathroom with a yawn.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, his eyes still shut as he shoves his pants down and releases his bladder with a grunt.

“Morning, okay!” Sonny chirps, and Rafael smiles as he blinks his eyes open. And then yelps, because Sonny has transformed once again. He hasn’t grown taller this time, just more…human. Sonny is now a 6-foot-tall man, standing in his shower, completely naked.

“You’re human,” Rafael says dumbly. “When did that happen?”

Sonny looks down at himself. “Well done?” He asks, his mouth taking on that tremulous quiver again. As Rafael watches in amazement, Sonny’s hair lengthens and his chest and hips take on a decidedly curvier shape.

“No, nope, nuh-uh!” Rafael exclaims, all but throwing a towel at Sonny. Sonny’s body morphs back to his male features and he holds the towel loosely.

“Oh for – here, wrap it around yourself.” Rafael gestures to the towel and then around his hips, and Sonny gets the idea, wrapping the bath towel around himself. It goes around his narrow frame twice and he clutches at it to keep it from slipping.

For every problem that is solved – at least now Rafael doesn’t need to figure out how to have a shower with someone lounging at his feet, – there is now a new problem requiring a solution.

A very tall, wet, naked problem.

Rafael turns on his heel and walks back to his bedroom, throwing open his closet doors and shoving things aside as he digs around for what he’s pretty sure is still tucked away back there. His hand closes on the handle of a gym bag and he tugs it out with a triumphant huff.

He turns to drop it on the bed and clutches his chest. “Don’t _do that_!” He gasps at Sonny, who is standing nearly directly behind him. “Just, sit there.” He points at the bed, and Sonny perches on the edge of the mattress. His eyes widen as the springs give under him and he bounces up and down.

“Well done!” He says, bouncing again.

“I’ve always thought it was a bit too soft, actually.” Rafael comments absently as he paws through the bag of clothing his ex had never bothered to pick up.

“Here, put these on. He was a bit broader than you, but I think you’re about the same height at least.”

He holds out a pair of basketball shorts and a faded Yale Law t-shirt. Honestly, the man’s pride in being a Yalie should have been the first sign their relationship was doomed from the start.

Sonny gingerly accepts the clothing and looks up at Rafael. “Here put?” He says, shaking the fabric.

“Dios mio,” Rafael mutters, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. He takes the shirt and bunches it up. “Arms up,” he instructs, lifting his own arms to demonstrate. Sonny complies, and Rafael shimmies the fabric down and over his arms and head. He bites down the urge to say “peekaboo!” when Sonny’s head pops out of the collar.

He then takes the shorts and stretches out the waistband. “Put your feet through these,” he says, pointing at Sonny’s legs and then the legs of the shorts. Sonny does, and Rafael slides the shorts up his long legs, trying to ignore the soft curve of his hips as he nudges Sonny to lift his ass a bit. Once the shorts are secure, he pulls the towel away.

There, as long as Sonny doesn’t open his mouth, he looks like any other grad student.

Unfortunately, the façade doesn’t last and Sonny does open his mouth.

“Rafael?” He asks, and Rafael looks at him.

“Yes, Sonny?” He asks. It’s the first time the creature – not a creature, now, possibly – has said his name.

“Coming up next? After these commercials?” Sonny asks, and Rafael tries to parse his meaning.

“Are you asking what happens next? I don’t know. I need coffee, and lots of it.”

As answers go, it doesn’t do much, and Sonny doesn’t look satisfied with it, but Rafael is fast running out of brain cells and he needs to replenish them with caffeine immediately.

He’s got two days off, and connections to any number of city officials who owe him favours. If he can get Sonny to the point of passing as someone for whom English is a foreign language and not an entirely new and alien concept, he might be able to convince someone to issue him an identification card.

From there, his mind goes blank. He finds himself drawn to Sonny, and the shy glances Sonny has been throwing his way since last night would indicate the same.

As he waits for his coffee to brew, Rafael putters around the kitchen, picking things up and putting them down. Sonny is seated at the table, a bowl of dry rice krispies in front of him. He’s delighting in the crispy crunch of them, even as he is flinging half of them on the table because he hasn’t quite got the hang of using a spoon.

A stack of books catches Rafael’s eye, a pile of books Lucia had dropped off for him to give to Liv for Noah. There are some early chapter books and some Spanish picture books, but the one that stands out to him is a picture dictionary. He pulls it out of the stack and flips through it. It’s divided loosely by category and each entry has a colour picture with the word beneath it, a brief definition, and an example of the word being used in a sentence.

He opens the book to the house section and slides it across the table to Sonny.

“This room is a kitchen,” he says, pointing at the picture and then circling his finger to gesture to the room they are in. “It’s where we keep the food.” He points to the cereal.

“Kitzen.” Sonny repeats. “Food.” He turns the pages of the book with interest. “Henlo?” He points to a picture of an airplane.

“That’s an airplane, it takes you around the world.” Rafael turns the book to the inside of the back cover, where there is a basic world map. “We’re here, in New York.” He points out New York. “You can take an airplane and go anywhere.”

Sonny looks carefully at the map, and then points at the Mediterranean Sea. “Goodbye,” he says sadly. “Henlo.” He points at New York.

“That’s where you came from? On an airplane?”

Sonny nods. “Well done.”

It’s still rudimentary as communication goes, but they’re getting somewhere at least. Sonny continues to turn the pages and then he excitedly points at a picture of the beach.

“You want to go to the beach?” Rafael asks.

“Beech!” Sonny agrees. He wiggles his toes, and Rafael wonders if having human limbs on his lower half is causing him distress, perhaps he wants a chance to revert back to his tail.

“We can go to the beach,” Rafael says. “I should warn you, the beach in December isn’t very comfortable.” He pretends to shiver with cold.

It’s clear and sunny at least, when they step outside. Sonny is wrapped in one of Rafael’s coats and he’s wearing slippers, which are the only shoes Rafael has that fit him. At least they’re in New York, Rafael thinks, where no one’s going to give Sonny a second look for wearing a pair of slippers outside.

He has his travel mug firmly grasped in one hand, and Sonny is clutching the picture dictionary to his chest. His other hand slips into Rafael’s, and when Rafael looks at their joined hands and then up at Sonny, Sonny’s cheeks turn a pinkish shade of lilac.

“Okay?” Sonny says.

“Okay,” Rafael says, squeezing Sonny’s hand lightly.

They walk to the nearest subway station and Rafael purchases a one-day metrocard for Sonny, and then shows him how to swipe it. Sonny does not like the turnstiles, and he spits something in his warbling language as he finally manages to get through.

The train is surprisingly empty for a blizzard-free weekend midmorning during the busiest time of the shopping year, but Rafael accepts it gratefully, because despite it being New York, they have gotten a few stares. Or rather, Sonny has gotten stares.

“We’re going to be on this train for a while,” Rafael says, tapping his watch. He takes a seat and Sonny sits next to him; his long legs folded up closely.

They spend most of the ride communicating through the book. Rafael tries to explain to Sonny what he does, using the chapter on careers, and Sonny is repeating words back to him and starting to string them together in truncated sentences.

“Rafael lawyer.” Sonny says. “Rafael make jail.”

“If I’m lucky, yes.” Rafael says. “What about Sonny? What does Sonny do at home?” He points to the picture of the judge and then back to the map and the Mediterranean Sea.

Sonny runs his finger along the pictures and shakes his head. “Not here.” He says. He flips through the book and finds a chapter on animals. There is a two-page spread that shows a day at the zoo, and Sonny taps it.

“You worked with animals?” Rafael guesses.

“No work. Sonny animal.” Sonny says, tapping again. His finger is directly on a picture of a seal with a ball on its nose and Rafael’s heart sinks.

“Oh Sonny,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Sonny shrugs. “Sonny get food. Go airplane. Noo Yawk. Rafael!”

Rafael is sure there’s more to the story, because he still doesn’t understand how a fully grown merman wound up shrunken and possibly cryogenically frozen in a fish tank in a museum gift shop. He makes a mental note to make quiet inquiries as to where the museum orders its stock from. But for now, he leaves it be. Sonny doesn’t seem too broken up about it, and now he is chattering excitedly about the beach.

“Just remember what I said about the cold,” Rafael says. “You won’t want to go in the water.”

Sonny shivers exaggeratedly. “Brr,” he says solemnly.

“Exactly.”

Leaving the station and walking down Stilwell Ave, Sonny gawks, his head tilted back to look at the Ferris wheel and the Cyclone, their frames standing out against the stark backdrop of a barren winter day. He stops walking, his feet firm, and his hand clutches Rafael’s.

“No Sonny,” he says firmly. “No airplane.”

Rafael follows his gaze up to the Ferris wheel. “I’m not sure they’re even open right now,” he says. “Don’t worry, I don’t like heights. We’re staying right here on the ground.”

Accepting the reassurance, Sonny lets himself be guided further down the street, and he gasps with excitement as Lower Bay comes into view, and behind it, the fullness of the Atlantic Ocean.

He lets go of Rafael’s hand and runs, slippers flapping against the ground. He stops a few feet from the water to pull off the shoes, and when Rafael catches up to him, he is wiggling his toes into the gritty brown sand with delight.

“Home,” Sonny says. “It feels home. Rafael beech!”

“When in Rome,” Rafael mutters, but he smiles and toes off his boots and socks. He can’t remember the last time he played in the sand but there’s something nostalgic about the way the sand trickles between his toes and the cool kiss of the sea breeze dancing across his face

He trudges over to a log that’s been carved into a bench and pats the seat next to him. “Leave your book here if you want to go in the water,” he says. “Books shouldn’t get wet.”

Sonny puts the book down, and the slippers. He looks lovingly at the water. “Can get wet?” He asks Rafael, pointing at his clothes.

“No, those shouldn’t get wet either.” Rafael helps him out of the coat. “Take the clothes off before you get in the water. You can leave them on the sand, I think.”

He says it more to save himself, because if Sonny strips off here and then walks to the water, Rafael’s going to have no choice but to wind up with an eyeful of the man’s ass.

Then again, it’s nearly Christmas and he has been a very good boy this year.

Sonny walks backwards away from him, peeling off his t-shirt with a coy grin that says he knows exactly what Rafael is thinking. Rafael steadfastly keeps his eyes on Sonny’s, not letting his gaze stray down the man’s torso, or, when Sonny finally turns, to the dip at the base of his spine.

He blinks, and in that moment, Sonny shifts, and Rafael sees the water breaking as Sonny dives in. His tail slaps the water as he moves, the sun catching on the shimmering scales and reflecting off them so that all Rafael can see is a glowing halo moving through the water.

Rafael passes the time on his phone, retweeting a book review by a critic he admires, double-tapping a few photos on his Instagram feed. He hunches into his coat, the open beach means no wind breaks, and now that he’s not moving, he’s cooling down quickly.

It’s only midafternoon but the sun is already beginning its descent when Sonny finally emerges from the water, shaking himself like an excited retriever. He pulls his borrowed clothing back on and by the time he reaches Rafael, his hair is nearly dry, a few drops of water clinging to strands draped across his forehead.

His teeth are chattering and his skin is a lightly tinged purple, but his eyes are shiny with happiness and his smile is so wide, Rafael’s own cheeks hurt to look at it.

“Did you have fun?” He asks, tucking his phone in his pocket.

Sonny nods, his head bobbing up and down rapidly. “Fun! Water and beech! Rafael and Sonny again?”

“You want to come to the beach again?” Rafael asks. Sonny nods again.

“Sonny,” Rafael says carefully, “don’t you want to go home? Back to where you came from?”

Sonny plops down the bench next to him. “Home?”

“Yes, home.” Rafael opens the dictionary to the map again. “Don’t you want to go back here?”

Sonny shakes his head vigorously and shuts the book. “Sonny home. Noo Yawk. Rafael.” His mouth works silently as he tries to parse out the best way to communicate his wants with his limited vocabulary.

“Sonny want. Me want.” He looks helplessly at Rafael.

“I want,” Rafael says softly.

“ _I want_ ,” Sonny repeats. “I want food and beech and book. I want learn.” He wrings his hands in frustration and his eyes droop. “I like Rafael. Rafael want goodbye?”

“Oh Sonny,” Rafael says. He tries to keep his tone gentle. “It's not that I want you to leave. I like you too, very much, but–”

But what? But Sonny doesn’t belong here? But Rafael can hardly integrate a shapeshifting merman who barely speaks English into his career-driven life?

Sonny bites his lower lip, pouting.

Maybe this is his Christmas miracle, Rafael thinks. Maybe just this once, he can let himself believe in the magic of the season and welcome the sudden shift in trajectory his life is taking.

“Come on, Sonny.” Rafael says, standing and holding his hand out. “Let’s go home.”

“Rafael home yes?” Sonny asks. He puts his hand in Rafael’s, twining their fingers together.

“Rafael and Sonny’s home, yes.” Rafael confirms.

Sonny’s ears flush pinky lilac again. “Rafael and Sonny home.” He agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> Carmen is Jewish, and until Executive Producer Dick Wolf DMs me himself to say otherwise, that's that on that.
> 
> Also, this was supposed to be like, maybe 3000 words. All I really had in my head when I started was the scene where Rafael bathes Sonny. Everything else just sort of...happened.


End file.
